Once More with Feeling
by InspiredtoRead
Summary: The moment when actions just aren't enough...In order to save him, Liv has to say the words Fitz has longed to hear...
1. Chapter 1

ONCE MORE WITH FEELING...

Chapter 1

Pounding. Ringing. Pain. Pain. Ringing. Pounding. Please God make it stop. Olivia buried her head beneath her pillow and willed the pain, noise and spinning to stop. As she blindly felt around for her cellphone, she momentarily made contact with Stephen, who was passed out next to her.

"Whaa!" She answered sluggishly.

"You need to come to the White House."

"What? Cyrus?"

She sat up quickly and immediately fell back unto her pillows. She was going to be sick.

"Liv, I –"

"What time is it?"

"I don't know, 2 or 3 something"

"In the morning?" She groaned. She'd finally fallen to sleep not too long ago, which – after having cried and drank most of the night – explained why she was slightly nauseous, exhausted and utterly confused by what has happening.

"Olivia!" Cyrus yelled as if he could somehow penetrate through the fog that had taken up residence in Olivia's mind. What the hell is wrong with her? He thought.

"What?" She yelled back but immediately lowered her voice when Stephen began to stir. "What do you want Cyrus?"

"You need to come to the White House."

It was his stressing of the word "need" that made her slowly sit up and take notice.

"What happened? Is he ok? Cyrus?"

"No. Yes. Liv, I jus—, yo—, please."

"Cyrus, I can't. I just, can't. I'm sorry."

Cyrus shouted her name through the phone and the pounding on the door resumed.

"You're at my door aren't you?" She accused. What the hell is happening?

"No. But there are two agents outside your door right now with instructions to deliver you to me by any means necessary. I'm sorry Liv, but you need to come to the White House. You have five minutes to open the door. See you in a bit."

Olivia was momentarily stunned but quickly got out of bed and threw on a sweater and jeans. She had no clue what was going on but knew it must be serious if, after three months of no contact, Cyrus was having her summoned in the middle of the night – by any means necessary. She turned to leave and found Stephen sitting up in bed watching her.

"Everything ok Liv?" His kind eyes, clouded with sleep, shinned with compassion and understanding. She nodded in response and gave him a small smile.

"Go back to sleep, I'll be back."

"Liv" He called out and waiting for her to turn back toward him. "You're alright." He assured her. He didn't have to ask where she was going. It was written all over her face. All he could do, all he would do, was assure her that he would be here if and when she needed him.


	2. Chapter 2

ONCE MORE WITH FEELING...

Chapter 2

The further into the West Wing she walked, the heavier the sense of dread became within and around her. Something was not right. The hallways, while normally quiet this time of night, seemed cold and mocking; a deafening silence choked the air. She walked past a few members of the staff and secret service agents and noted that they looked decidedly unconformable and displaced. In fact, she was acutely aware that no one seemed to be where he or she was supposed to be. Rather, they all seemed as though they were nervously awaiting something explosive. Olivia instinctively slowed her pace. Something was not right.

Just as she rounded the final hallway leading to the Oval Office, she heard sounds of objects being smashed and violently crashing to the ground. It was his voice, however, that shocked her immobile and rooted her 30feet in from of the door.

"I mean it, get the fck out of here Cy!"

She watched as the door opened and Cyrus emerged into the hall. Before he fully closed the door, she heard "You come back in here, and I—"

"Cyrus?" She whispered, making her presence known.

"I can't help him. I just thou—, I can't help him." He took a moment to study Olivia.

"Cyrus I don't know what you think I ca-" He silenced her with an old familiar look. A look that said, it's me you're talking to, so cut the crap.

"You know what this is about. You never could hold your alcohol well and from the looks of it, you've been crying. Olivia, he needs you. I can't help him."

She took a few deep breaths and walked past Cyrus.

"Cyrus, I swear to God, you son of a bit—"

Flinching as he hurled his words at her, she silently closed the door behind her and gingerly leaned against the frame. He was standing across the room by this desk with his back to the door. She felt the air around them shift from anger and frustration to despair and sadness and knew that that was the moment he realized she was not Cyrus. She watched him square his shoulders in an attempt to guard himself against her. That hurt. Suddenly she couldn't breathe; it felt like all the oxygen was being sucked out of the room. She wasn't ready to face him. She thought about retreating to the other side of the door but his voice once again held her captive.

"You here to congratulate me?" He asked slowly with his back still to her.

She ignored his question and took in her surroundings instead. Broken glass was littered around the room. All of the objects that normally rested on top of his desk were now scattered across the floor. Everything in the room was literally and figuratively on its axis. Up was down; down was up. In the midst of all the chaos sat a perfectly intact, nearly empty bottle of Scotch.

"Love what you've done with the place." She stated disapprovingly.

He spun around in anger and glared at her. She held her breath as she defiantly met his eyes. He held her eyes for just a moment and then took a mental trip up and down her body before returning to her eyes. She willed herself to breathe and tried not to notice that his eyes went from angry to lustful to sadness to desire and back. He finally broke eye contact and took a deep breath.

"Why are you here?" Before she could answer he pressed on, "Just leave. Please. I didn't ask for you and I don't want you here." He spoke matter-of-factly and turned away from her once again and rounded his desk.

"I've honored your wishes." He scoffed as he continued to ramble seemingly to himself. "I've kept my end of the bargain and now look, the whole world is excited about the impending Presidential Birth. I coul—, couldn't be more thrilled." His choked whisper of the latter statement gave away his heart. "Just go."

She was sure her heart had no more pieces left to break. But just as Olivia's heart broke for them three months ago when she left, standing here in the Oval Office listening to him speak, it broke anew. She tried to force herself to move, just walk out of the door back to her apartment where she could once again break down in the company of a trusted friend. But hopelessness radiated off of him in waves and it was beautifully tragic – so much so that it held kept her a prisoner in the room.

"I'm so sorry. I am so sorry." She found herself softly whispering the very words she had longed to say to him the day she turned over her hard pass and left the White House grounds for good.

He didn't respond; just stared at her with sad, tired and hurt eyes. It was almost as if she hadn't spoken the words at all. Resigned, she started to turn toward the door.

"Did you ever love me? Or was I just another problem that needed fixing? I was going to walk away from it all for you; for us. You were enough for me. Was I not enough for you? Without the titles or prestige, was I not enough?"

She spun around and stared at him incredulously. She searched his eyes and was horrified to find that his words had not been spoken in anger but in defeat and resignation. Tears burned her eyes as realization sunk in. He was broken. How could he not know? How could he not know?

Mistaking her silence as a refusal to respond, he shook his head and whispered sadly, "Right, I forgot. The Olivia Pope doesn't answer to anyone. The embodiment of above the fray; too much self-control to sink to a mere mortal's level and engage him in something real. Right, forget I asked." He turned to face the window, essentially dismissing her. "I've asked you twice now, please leave M-, Ms. Pope"

Olivia had been frozen, choking on all the words caught in her throat and kept at bay by her mind. But it was the moment "Ms. Pope" reached her ears that her heart leapt out of her chest and laid itself bare at his feet.

"I will love you forever, don't you get that. Until the day I, I take my last breath, I will be in love you. I loved you before you were president and I'll love you long after you've left the office." She paused momentarily as he once again turned to face her and meet her eyes.

"I didn't walk away lightly Fitz. I didn't. I knew exactly what I was giving up. I loved us. You were not mine to take. But I loved, I love you nonetheless. My heart will always be yours and yours alone. Fitz, I will long for you. Forever."

Although tears were now freely running down their cheeks, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and looked him deeply in the eyes.

"You have a job to do. Be great, Fitzgerald Grant." She paused and smiled warmly at him. "Don't let our sacrifice be in vain. Don't let this pain that we both feel be in vain. Be great. Be the leader the American people need you to be. Be the father your children need you to be. Be the man I love. Be Great."

She watched as life sprang back into his eyes. He would be ok. She suspected that once it was all said and done, she would be ok too.

"Fitz?"

"Yeah?"

"Clean up this mess." She smiled and her heart jumped as his smile appeared too.

"Forever huh?"

"Forever."

She reentered the hall and closed the door.

"Make sure he doesn't cut himself on the glass." She instructed Cyrus who looked at her with a great deal of curiosity.

"Thank you Olivia."

"Goodbye Cyrus."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So I decided to give this story a proper ending...Hope you enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!

ONCE MORE WITH FEELING...

Chapter 3

Fitz watched her leave and fought the urge to call out to her. He was so tired of watching her walk away. This time had been different though. Instead of anger and feelings of betrayal, he felt – in equal parts – loved by her and utter despair and sadness at their predicament. Air, abundant so long as she was in the room, now seemed to be hard-pressed to come by and he struggled to take in a full breath.

_It's not _fair, he silently screamed.

He had no doubt she was hurting as badly as he was. He'd seen evidence of her pain etched on her face as she stood boldly in front of him. He knew it hurt her to see him in his current state; and yet she came. He knew it hurt her to finally voice those words of love knowing she would still away; and yet she did. All for his sake. All for him. _Love is…_

He stared at the door a full four minutes before his legs propelled him forward. He moved with purpose and begged the rising pain in his chest to subside.

"Cyrus," he yanked the door open and glanced at his Chief of Staff who jumped to attention. "Get her back now."

"Sir, she's probably alrea—"

"You get her back here or I'll go after her myself…your choice."

"Sir," Cyrus sighed in exasperation at the man in front of him. Sensing that rationalizing with him was futile he turned on his heels and went after Olivia.

Fitz reentered his office and walked toward the lone upright painting behind which hid a safe. Removing it from the wall with care, he placed the painting on the ground and quickly opened the safe retrieving a 5x7 jewelry box.

As he somberly regarded the box in his hands, he begrudgingly acknowledged that a part of him had always known this day would come – perhaps the more pragmatic part of him. It was the other side of him, however, that fought this day with all he had. It caused him to behave childishly at time, and erratic at others, all in a vain attempt to delay this moment or – if he was lucky – avoid it all together.

As he walked to the middle of the room and sat on the edge of the desk, he remembered, as though it were yesterday, the day he first laid eyes on the contents of the box. It had been a cool, crisp evening in September and he and Mellie were the honored guests at some fancy fundraiser held at the Met in New York City. Being one of the last fundraisers he would attend before the election, he had been obligated to show up. Cyrus and Olivia were also in attendance and he remembered she looked exceptionally lovely in her red wine colored evening gown. Unlike Fitz, Olivia was not obligated to stay the duration of the event and not feeling particularly social, she left half way through.

He remembered being distracted by Olivia's abrupt departure and irritated at Mellie's incessant touching and caressing of his arms and hands. Needing space, he excused himself and wandered aimlessly down the various wings of the museum. As if led by the gods, he stumbled upon the most magnificently beautiful jewel he'd ever seen. While gazing upon its beauty, his thoughts drifted to Olivia and he wished she were beside him to share in its splendor. That night he called an old friend who specialized in procuring the unprocurable and tasked him with buying it, no matter the cost.

One cold, dark evening in February, less than a month into his term, he received a late night visitor to the Oval Office. While it had taken months and a small fortune, the item was finally his and no one was the wiser as to his identity. From that day forward it stayed hidden in the safe behind the painting, always close to him and an ever-present memento of _her_ – his Livie.

Her soft knock on the other side of the door snapped him out of his reverie. He took a deep breath and summoned the courage to do what he knew in his heart was right.

"Hi" she said tentatively as she entered the room.

He could tell she was confused as to why she was called back. He smiled and tried to put her at ease.

"Hey"

"You uh"

"Yeah umm, I just, I didn't get to say…thanks." He was stalling and he knew it. "You know for umm…coming and…just," he paused to gather himself. He felt the tears bubbling up and they began to choke him. "For…everything."

He wasn't ready. He couldn't do it. It was too soon. There had to be another way. He wouldn't. He couldn't.

"You ok?" Her eyes were filled with concern and he shut his in an effort to block out the warring voices in his head.

"Livie," he whispered as his sight became blurry.

"It's ok Fitz. It's ok." She knew. He knew she knew. She always was the more perceptive of the two. He had to it. For her.

"I…uh…I can't keep you…can I?" he began to tremble.

"No" she whispered softly and fought the urge to scream.

"I have to let you go."

"Yes."

They both lost their respective battle with tears. Fitz wiped at his cheeks roughly and forcefully blew out a puff of air.

"I'll always love you Livie. Always."

The moment she broke eye contact and began to sob he closed the distance between them. He cradled her face and gently brushed away her tears. His eyes drank in the sight of her and memorized every detail of her features.

"I want you to be happy. Incandescently happy." He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes, "I want you know the joy of having children and grandchildren to spoil."

He choked back his own sob knowing those kids wouldn't be his.

"But I'm also not selfless." He smiled. "I have a condition."

His heart skipped a beat as she smiled at his self-deprecating comment. He stared into her eyes and knew he'd made the right choice. It was time to let her go. It was time to let her let him go. It was time.

"Outlive him." He whispered.

He watched his words register. His promise to her; his promise to never love another but her.

"And if I should go first, know that I'll be waiting for you on the other side. Waiting for our 'forever'."

He took a few steps backward and dropped his hands from her face. He once again wiped his cheeks and under his nose and picked up the velvet box and handed it to her.

She opened the box slowly and gasped loudly as she looked upon the jewel inside.

"This is a symbol of my heart," he whispered and took a small step toward her. "Yours for safekeeping. Forever."

Inside the box was the most exquisite Burmese ruby. Flawless in every way and large enough to easily fit in the palm of Olivia's hand.

"Fitz, I ca—"

"Yeah you can. Please." His eyes pleaded with her to accept the token of his love – for his sake. "Besides…do you know what I had to do to get this? Palms were greased, treaties forged, high powered stuff." He stated, only half teasing.

"I want you to know that you always have my heart – a man's most prized possession – both literally and figuratively."

"Forever is a long time Fitz."

"Yeah," he shrugged, "and yet not long enough."


End file.
